Christmas Cake
by Katsu
Summary: Orihime bakes a Christmas Cake. Present for Shannon


**Christmas Cake**

Orihime made Christmas cake every year. She had since before her older brother's death. It was because of him, actually. They had been walking together, a few cold days before Christmas, and Orihime had spotted a cake shop. She ran over to the window, pressing her face and hands against the glass.

Normally, she liked looking at the wedding cakes. Not because, at such a young age, she had any kind of far-reaching dream about a grand marriage and a gossamer dress. She just liked how they looked, like edible lace.

This time, rather than the towering, pale beauties, she stared at the smaller cakes at the front of the window. They were topped with a dazzling array of fruit in colored patterns. Some had little chocolate figures on them of Santa Claus or trees decorated with colored icing lights. "So cute!" she exclaimed, her breath fogging the window. "What are they, brother"

Her brother laughed, leaning over her. "They're Christmas cakes," he said.

She'd guessed as much, but having it confirmed just gave it a new dimension of wonder. "Do you give them to Santa?" she asked.

He laughed again, and she giggled in response. "No, silly. Girls make them for their special guys so they can eat them together on Christmas."

"Oh!" Orihime nodded wisely. She'd noticed that Santa stopped giving people presents after a certain age, so that must be what grown-ups did instead. She looked at the cake – she could just about taste it, and it was delicious. Maybe it wasn't such a bad trade.

She and her brother continued on their way, hand-in-hand. On the walk back to their tiny apartment, she decided to make a Christmas cake for her brother. She couldn't think of anyone more special than her brother.

That year, her attempt at a cake exploded in their tiny oven, filling the apartment with smoke and a smell uncomfortably like burning rubber.  
Orihime was in tears when he produced a box from the cake shop that held the smallest, cheapest cake they made. It was topped with strawberry slices and whorls of cream. They at it together, bundled up in every piece of clothing they owned. The window was open wide to air out the apartment.

The next year, the cake didn't explode. It came out an inch thick disk. She put slices of lemon on top of it, since it was the only fruit she'd been able to buy with her small horde of coins she'd picked up off the sidewalk.

Her brother pretended to eat it, and then gave her another cake from the shop, this one decorated with kiwi and a little chocolate reindeer.  
After that, her cakes were edible, and went from tasteless and rubbery to delicious. Even after her brother died, she made a cake every year and shared a slice of it with his smiling picture while she told him about her ideas for decorating the next one. The rest of the cake went to her friends, and everyone was happy.

This year, her hands shook slightly as she laid out the careful fruit slices. She made flowers of strawberries, oranges, and cherries, leaves from bits of kiwi. In the middle of the garish, but very cute pile, she put a small chocolate figure.

In years past, she'd become something of an expert at making Santa Claus from white chocolate and clothing him in frosting dyed with food coloring. This year, it wasn't Santa. But, out of habit, he was still shaped like the jolly old elf, far bigger around than anyone had a right to be.

But the effect was very, very cute.

She packed the cake carefully in a box she'd decorated with magic marker. "This is a good idea," she told the cake as she shut the box. She sounded as if she wasn't all that convinced. "I'm sure he'll like it. Everyone likes getting presents from their friends, right."

She glanced at her brother's picture. And she knew he wouldn't mind. If she'd learned anything in these crazy days, she knew that. And she'd make sure to tell him all about it later, good or bad.

"Who're you talking to?" Rangiku asked, poking her head out of the bathroom.

"Oh... no one..." A blush colored her cheeks.

"And what are you making? It smells great."

"Just a cake."

Rangiku stepped out into the hallway, dripping water on the floor. She had a towel over her hair, but not anything else. "Oh, can I have a piece?"

Orihime shuffled her feet. She didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to explain, either. It would just sound dumb if she tried to say anything. "I... already promised to give this one to someone else," she said, then smiled. "But I'll make you one when I get home, if you don't mind buying the fruit you want on top of it."

"Someone? Who?" Rangiku smiled wickedly.

Orihime scooted away, clutching the box a little tighter than necessary. "No one special!" she squeaked.

Rangiku laughed. "Oh, I get it..." she turned and went back into the bathroom. "I hope he likes it," she called, then shut the door.

Orihime sighed, then went to put on her shoes. That was the question, wasn't it.

She walked to Ichigo's house, each step a little slower than the last. Her breath frosted in the air, and she kicked up little puffs of fresh snow. Cheerful, she told herself. Be cheerful. Where had her smile gone? But she couldn't help but wonder if Rukia would be there. She hoped not. And as soon as she thought that, she felt terrible – and she also half expected Rangiku to come leaping out of the bushes without a stitch on to read her the riot act.

She stopped in front of Ichigo's house, mercifully unmolested by Rangiku or any other naked, damp person. It was far quieter than it should have been. The few times she'd been there, the family alone had caused enough noise to fill the street. A 'closed' sign hung on the door.  
Maybe she was just the victim of bad luck. Well, Rangiku would help her eat the cake at home.

As she turned to go, her thoughts were interrupted by the rumble of a window being opened. "Hey, Inoue!" Ichigo yelled. "What are you doing here?"

She looked up, squinting against the afternoon sun to see him half-hanging out of his window. "Oh, hi! I... uh... I brought a treat!" She lifted the cake box.

"Be down in a sec," he called, shutting the window. The front door opened a moment later. Up close, Ichigo's expression was set in its normally grouchy lines, though now it was softened by curiosity. "Come in."

"Thank you." She did her best to get off her shoes while still holding on to the box with both hands. "Where is everyone?"

"Out at some park," Ichigo said. "My dad said something about wanting to take his little girls out to play in the snow. So Rukia's with them, too." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh," she said. "Why didn't you go?"

Ichigo shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."

"Oh."

"What's in the box?" Ichigo asked.

"It's... uh..." she stumbled, still attempting to pry her left shoe off. Ichigo swooped in to rescue the box before she could drop it.

"Here, I'll hold this. Just work on getting your shoes off."

"Sorry..." she loosened the cold laces and straightened. Ichigo handed the box back without comment.

"Want some tea?"

"Sure!" She followed him to the kitchen, then perched awkwardly on a chair as he pulled out mugs and tea bags.

"Green okay?" he asked.

"Yes." She kicked her feet. Now that she was here, she was starting to think this was a bad idea.

Ichigo thumped his own mug down on the table, though he was a lot gentler with Orihime's. He stared at her for a moment, eyebrow raised. "So... what's up?"

The moment of truth. Orihime found herself wishing she'd just stayed home. "I was... baking today," she said. "I thought you might like some."

Ichigo's eyebrow climbed a little higher at Orihime specifying him, not his family. He reached across the table and popped the box lid open. Then it suddenly made more sense.

Orihime's face colored red with a blush.

Ichigo quickly had one to match. "Um... is that..." he pointed at the cake, specifically at the little figure on top. It was mostly black, with a shock of orange frosting for hair.

"Sorry. I haven't made anything quite like that before." Orihime ducked her head.

And suddenly, Ichigo grinned, though if anything his cheeks were redder. "It's really... uh... cute. Thanks."

Orihime smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." He stood and got plates, forks, and a knife. "How about you cut it," he said. "If you... I mean, if that's okay."

Orihime nodded. "Sure!" She cut a slice for each of them. Ichigo got the little chocolate topper on his plate. "Oh..." she hesitated. There was a lot that she wanted to say, and ask, and do.

Ichigo looked at her, his fork poised. He was smiling now, a gentleness in her expression that she'd never really seen before.

It was alright, she realized. She didn't have to say anything. When she smiled this time, it was the sun breaking through the clouds. "Just watch out for the black frosting. The recipe said it could cause stains. Or something."

Ichigo eyed the chocolate version of his shinigami self with mocking suspicion. "I'll keep that in mind." He took a bite of the cake, finally. His smile laid to rest every doubt she had felt.


End file.
